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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507649">Such Little Touches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1'>ScarletteStar1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sister Janet and Sister Grace. . . Stories of Convent Love [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Erotica, F/F, Fingering, Forbidden Love, Kissing, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Quiet Sex, Secret love, so soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 03:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely such little touches can't be wrong. . .</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sister Janet and Sister Grace. . . Stories of Convent Love [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Such Little Touches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It feels like a knot of heat very low in her abdomen. It glows and wants for attention. She says as much, whispers it in the dark. “It’s sort of like a cramp? But it isn’t unpleasant.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“What do you feel?”</p><p>Rarely at a loss for words or wisdom, Sister Janet finds herself speechless now. She listens to the soft rustle of nightgowns and sheets as they hold one another, tries to hear if the subtle sounds will grant her a script from which to answer, but it’s all she can do to whimper, “The same. I feel the same.” It is her voice, but it isn’t. It is the voice of a woman named <em>Isobel</em>, and <em>Isobel</em> holds a woman named <em>Cate</em> in her trembling arms.</p><p>“Oh.” Cate sighs and shifts in Isobel’s arms. “They are such little touches, surely they cannot be so wrong, can they?”</p><p>“No.” Their fingers flicker like dying lights in dark places on one another. They know better. Little on not, they will burn in hell for such tenderness. Cate’s lips bless the beating pulse on Isobel’s neck, and her hand ghosts over the dove of her breast. Isobel arches into the hand, grants it a grasp on her breast as she presses into the fingers between her thighs, searching friction, pressure, release. The younger woman is startled by her sudden passion, but Isobel begs, “Please don’t stop.” She will gladly burn in hell for this.</p><p>They pant in hot, little puffs like laboring women, nearing the most delicate stage of their efforts. Although they are nearly silent, the thunder of their own breath and hearts terrifies and practically deafens. The knotted ropes burst into brightest flame as they uncoil in their cores. They cling to one another, as if the fire will reduce them to ash, but it does not. Their hearts slow and Cate exhales a little giggle.</p><p>“It feels like I held my breath for my entire life before that moment,” she says, wonderingly.</p><p>“Oh, my Darling, what have we done?” Isobel says, but she’s kissing Cate’s forehead and cheeks and nose and lips as she says it.</p><p>“Are you very sad?”</p><p>“No.” Isobel sighs. The dark chamber embraces them as they embrace one another for several long moments of silence. She shrugs, “I suppose we might ask His forgiveness.”</p><p>“Are you sorry?” Cate’s whisper vibrates with anxiety.</p><p>“No.” Isobel does not know what daylight will hold, she only knows this now, this here, and in this moment the sentiment with which she is filled is not regret or remorse. She strokes Cate’s hair and soothes away any lingering fears. She feels Cate’s fingers on her face, tracing her features with such little touches and she feels such enormous love.</p>
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